Shut the F Up Mag 7 ATF AU
by senorabutterfly
Summary: The boys are acting up and Chris loses his cool...


"Shut The F*ck Up!" Mag 7 ATF AU

(Thanks Kelly Bolster Leach for the sticker inspiration!)

The din in the bullpen was getting steadily louder and making the vein on Chris' forehead throb in time to the headache building behind his eye.

His team hated paperwork and would do most anything to try to relieve the tedium and stress involved. That included things like free-throw contests using wads of paper and each other's trash cans; target practice with rubber bands at the back…or sometimes front…of a co-workers head; and competitions to see who could get a sharpened pencil to stick in the soft ceiling tile the longest. And that wasn't even counting the scuffles over trifling insults that often rearranged the furniture; head-locks and rude gestures; and games of keep-away that seemed to break out every time food was delivered.

At the moment Larabee could hear Standish's cultured Southern voice raised in disgust as he scolded his compatriots for some perceived insult, JD's squawk of protest as Buck apparently knocked off the electronics tech's beloved Red Sox ball cap for the hundredth time, and Vin's chortle of glee as he used his sniper talents to send a paperclip unerringly into Josiah's cup of coffee even as the big profiler raised it to take a sip.

A bellow like the roar of a bull prefaced Sanchez's response to the invasion of his much-needed beverage. The crash of a chair being thrown backward and Tanner's raspy "Aw, hell" indicated that Josiah was intent on revenge. Ezra's voice immediately lost its querulous quality as the gambler started asking if anyone wanted to bet on the outcome of the impending altercation. The sound of the first-aid kit being opened could be heard as Nathan pulled the oft-used box out of his desk drawer, the medic loudly telling the two prospective combatants that if they did any damage to themselves that involved more than a Band-Aid or ice pack, he wasn't fixing it. They could just damn well go to the ER this time and deal with the doctors who saw way too much of the Seven as it was!

Chris could tell when Buck got up and moved around to sit on his desk for a better view of the confrontation between the slender sharpshooter and the much larger ex-preacher. Josiah definitely had a weight advantage, though it was all muscle, but Vin was wiry and slippery as an eel in a fight, using his combat training to excellent advantage. JD was placing ten on Vin while Buck handed Ezra a twenty with the words "Put it on Josiah… he looks mad as a bull seein' red. Think Vin might'a bit off more than he can chew this time…" Standish took the money, and predictably asked if there were any takers on a side bet of how much damage the room would sustain.

Chris' thumb and forefinger had been pinching the bridge of his nose, but at the sound of Tanner's booted feet scurrying out of the profiler's way, using his companion's desks and bodies as cover, and Josiah's bellow of "Coward!" as he barreled after the slim figure, the team leader lost his tenuous control.

Sliding his own chair back with enough force to smack it against the wall behind his desk, the dark-garbed form stalked to the open doorway of his office. Stepping out, he put his hands on his hips as his face turned a rather alarming beet red. Raising his usually soft voice to a level that drowned out Sanchez's, he spat out his anger in a roar that caused all action to cease as if frozen in time.

"I'm the f*cker in charge of you f*cking f*cks! Now shut the f*ck up and get back to work before I shoot you all!"

The other six men stood with open mouths, Sanchez's hand just brushing Tanner's collar where he was in the middle of reaching over Ezra's desk to grab the sniper. Wide eyes in various shades of green, hazel, blue, and brown stared at their leader in amazement and admiration at his inventiveness.

Suddenly the tableau came back to life as Josiah released Vin and the smaller man slipped soundlessly back to his desk. Ezra shut his mouth with a snap and put his small notepad away without a word of protest at losing the bet money he'd been anticipating. JD bent over his keyboard and began to type industriously, while Nathan silently returned the medical kit to its drawer. Josiah gave a sheepish grin and moved with surprising speed to right his chair and sit down, fishing the paperclip out of his coffee when he was seated.

Not a sound was heard, until Buck rose and stretched his lanky frame. Moving over to pat a now silent Chris on the shoulder, the brunet gave a big smile.

"Didn't know ya had it in ya, Stud. That was damned impressive! Even shut Ez up."

The cobalt gaze then moved to Nathan as Wilmington resumed his seat. "Uh…Nate. Ya might want to check Chris out later. I think the ol' war dog might'a just broke his vocal chords…"

by DMA


End file.
